That One Halloween
by Laura Louisa Lewis
Summary: In the Season 3 episode, Nightmares, Jamie jokes that he's still traumatized by going trick-or-treating with Erin one Halloween. What exactly did Erin do to her baby brother? And how did all four Reagan siblings end up at the hospital that Halloween? (#2 in the There's a Story Behind That series.)
1. Jamie and Erin Go Trick or Treating

Author Note: Dialogue in the opening scene taken from the Season 3 episode, _Nightmares_.

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE: JAMIE AND ERIN GO TRICK-OR-TREATING**

It was the day after Halloween – a Sunday – and the Regan family had gathered in Bay Ridge for their after-church family meal. As usual, the conversation revolved around police matters. Today, the topic had been the mentally disabled man Jamie had interacted with in the previous days. That topic had ended with Danny making a juvenile fart joke. But the two people at the table most likely to appreciate that joke hadn't laughed at all.

"Hey, what's up with you two? Your Dad makes a fart joke, and you don't react?" Linda asked her sons.

Danny looked over at the boys. "Yeah, you've been pretty quiet over there. What's going on?"

Jack's eyes tracked toward Erin, an action that did not slip by the police officers at the table. They all followed Jack's glance to Erin.

"What?" Erin asked with some indignation.

"I take it you haven't gone trick-or-treating with my mother," Nicki stated.

Frank looked at Danny. "You let them go alone with Erin?"

Danny shrugged. "Well, I didn't get that memo."

"Oh, the poor kids." Henry

Nicki laughed. "I think they still may be a little traumatized."

"I know I am," Jamie commented, trying to keep the smile off his face.

Erin sighed. "You guys are wimps," she informed her brother, her daughter and her nephews.

Laughter broke out from most of the adults. "What did you do?" Linda asked Erin.

Before Erin could answer, Danny's phone rang. Something had broken on his current case, and he had to leave. By the time they'd settled back down, the conversation moved on to a different subject.

-BB- BB-

Once dinner was over and Jamie offered to clear the table, Erin grabbed up a dish and followed her brother into the kitchen.

"Jamie, you're not really still traumatized by that whole trick-or-treating incident, are you?" Erin asked her brother.

"I don't know. I do still have a scar from that night." Jamie pointed to his right leg.

"Jamie, don't say that. I'll start feeling bad about that night all over again."

"You should. You really scared me. And scarred me. Big sisters shouldn't tell scary stories," Jamie teased.

"And little brothers shouldn't be so gullible," Erin teased back.

"Hey, Erin, what exactly did you do to you little brother?" Linda asked as she also brought a dish into the kitchen.

"Normal Halloween stuff. Told him a few scary stories. Took him trick-or-treating. Made one extra stop on the way home…"

-BB- BB-

"Bye, Mom!" Joe Reagan yelled as he headed out the door to spend the night at the home of his friend, Tim Fleming. The screen door slammed shut behind him.

Jamie stared at the door his brother had just exited. "Mommy, why can't I go over to Timmy's with Joey?"

Mary set a plate with a slice of pizza down in front of her youngest son. "Because Tim only invited Joe to sleep over. Sometimes twelve-year olds like to play without little brothers around. Besides your sister wants to take you trick or treating tonight."

Jamie took a bite out of his pizza and glanced over at Erin, who nodded at him. "Can we stay out late? Until it's dark outside?" he asked his mother, as Erin had told him to.

Mary looked at her son, then over to her daughter, then back to Jamie. "You want to go trick or treating after dark?"

"The big kids get to stay out late," Jamie argued. "I'm more than five and a half. I'm getting to be a big kid. And Erin will be there. She's already a big kid. She's four-teen."

"Erin, do you think this is a good idea?" Mary asked her daughter.

"Mom! I've babysat before after dark. This isn't that different," Erin protested.

"Okay, but only until seven-thirty."

"Eight-thirty," Erin argued. "Mom, seven-thirty is hardly dark."

Mary shook her head. "Eight-thirty is your brother's bedtime."

"Okay, eight o'clock? We'll be back in time to get him in bed."

"Mom, I want to stay out late. Until eight o'clock," Jamie cut in.

"Okay. Eight o'clock. But not even a minute later," Mary relented. "Now you finish up that pizza."

An hour later, Erin led her little brother out of their house. "So, cowboy Jamie, ready to go face the ghosts and goblins and get some candy?"

"Cowboy sheriff," Jamie corrected. "And I'm not scared of those ghosts and stuff you keep talking about." Every day that week, as Danny was driving them to school, Erin had been telling him scary stories about ghosts and how they would be roaming around looking for people to take to Hell with them on Halloween night, and vampires looking for blood, and ogres looking for little kids to tear apart and devour, and werewolves prowling the neighborhood looking for bones to chew on. And they were just stories, Jamie told himself again. Not real. Tonight was about having fun collecting candy, not Erin's scary stories.

"Erin, what time is it?" Jamie asked after long night of trick-or-treating. He tried to hide a yawn. He'd been to every house in the neighborhood, and then the next street over, and then… Actually, he wasn't sure where they were right now. But he had more candy than he'd ever seen in his plastic pumpkin, and it was getting heavy. "Is it time to go home yet?"

"Seven fifty," Erin replied after checking her watch. "Just one more house, okay?"

"'kay." Jamie headed up the walk to the house Erin indicated and rang the doorbell. "Trick or treat."

"Hey, Erin," the teenage boy at the door greeted his sister while offhandedly dropping a Tootsie Roll into Jamie's pumpkin.

"Hey, Paulie." Erin stepped in closer to let Paulie kiss her.

"Eww, gross, Erin!"

Erin poked her brother in the shoulder. "Shut up," she whispered. "Paulie, you ready to go?"

"Just waiting for you, babe." Paulie closed the door behind him. He draped an arm over Erin's shoulders and led her toward his car.

"Jamie, come on. Paulie is going to drive us home," Erin called to her brother.

Jamie frowned. "I'm not supposed to ride in cars if a grown-up or Danny isn't driving."

"It's okay, Jamie. It's just a short drive back home, and Paulie is sixteen, like Danny."

Jamie had a feeling Mommy and Daddy wouldn't agree, but he climbed into the back seat anyway and buckled himself in as Paulie started up the car.

"Jamie, we have to stop one place before we go home," Erin told her brother.

"Where?"

"The cemetery where the priests from church are buried. You have to offer ten percent of your candy to them, or they'll haunt you until next Halloween."

"No they won't," Jamie tried to argue.

"Yes they will," Erin argued back. "They'll follow you around every day, at Mass on Sunday and during the week at kindergarten."

"The ghost of Father Angus hovering over you every Sunday during Mass and every day of school, trying to snatch your soul and drag it to Hell. I wouldn't risk it, if I were you," Paulie added with a dramatic shudder. He brought his car to a stop in the cemetery's parking area, only a short distance from the mausoleum holding the remains of their church's priests.

Jamie looked down at his candy haul. He didn't know if he believed Erin and Paulie, but he didn't want the ghost of Father Angus haunting him. "Erin, what's ten percent?"

Erin opened the door beside him. "Just choose five good pieces. That should be enough."

Jamie pulled five items out of his bucket. Five of the good ones; not the little packs of Chicklets gum. Ghosts might not like gum. His kindergarten teacher, Sister Margie, sure didn't. "Okay."

Erin took his hand and led him toward the imposing mausoleum. "Now, just walk up the stairs, put your candy down in the center of the floor, confess your sins and say the Lord's Prayer twice."

Jamie nodded and slowly began walking up the three stairs to the entrance. He carefully piled his candy offering on the floor and stepped back. "H… hello, Fathers. Erin said I have to confess my sins, so, um... I… I used my friend Mark's orange crayon without asking him first, and I got jealous because Joey got to go to his friend's house tonight, and I got in a car without a grown-up," Jamie quickly listed out the anything he could think of that might count as a sin. "And… I think that's it." He clasped his hands together and closed his eyes. "Our Father who arts in Heaven, hollowed by Thy name, Thy… Thy…" He couldn't remember what came next! Did that mean Father Angus would reject his offering and haunt him for a year? He squeezed his eyes shut and thought hard. "Thy kingdom come, and… forgive us our debts…" No, that wasn't right! He swallowed hard and tried again. "Thy king…"

Something touched the back of his head and ran down his neck. Jamie screamed in terror. The ghost of Father Angus! Trying to drag his soul to Hell because he couldn't remember the Lord's Prayer! Jamie ran the two steps to the edge of the mausoleum and jumped off, then took off running into the cemetery. He hear someone chuckling behind him and ran harder. Father Angus and the rest of them weren't going to catch him!

Erin watched in surprise as Jamie ran at top speed into the dark cemetery. "Jamie! Jamie, stop! Come back!" she called after her brother, then turned to her boyfriend. "Paulie, what did you do that for?"

Paulie couldn't stop laughing. "Damn, if only we'd had a video camera. That would've made a great video."

Erin smacker her boyfriend as hard as she could. "It's not funny. We've got to go find him now." She turned away from Paulie and called to her brother again. "Jamie, come back. It was just Paulie. Jamie!"

Jamie heard Erin's calls, but didn't stop running. The ghost of Father Angus had probably already got her, and was dragging her down to Hell. Probably got that stupid Paulie first. Well, they weren't going to get him! He darted around one tall monument, then another, then a tree and a few more monuments before he tripped over a stone border. He fell to the ground, scraping the skin on his hands and knees. "Mommy," he whimpered.

 _Who? Who?_ An owl called from a nearby tree.

Jamie looked up at the tree and saw glowing eyes staring down at him. His own eyes went wide. A demon! Trying to get him! Jamie yelped and took off running again. A few minutes later, he ducked behind a thick tree and leaned back against it. Maybe the demons couldn't see him. He looked around. All he could see were rows and rows of gravestones, and a lot more darkness. He had no idea where he was or how to get back home and away from the evil that Erin said was roaming around tonight.

Rustling in the shrubbery startled him. Another demon? Or maybe one of those ogres or werewolves Erin had told him about! He ran again, with no idea of where he was going, but anywhere was better than there! He crossed a small road, wove around a bench and a tree and a lot more stones. Was _it_ still chasing him? He looked behind him and didn't see the tree root in his path. His foot caught on it, sending him sprawling again. But this time, his right leg hit something hard and sharp, and he almost immediately felt blood leaking out of the cut. He rolled over and sat up and looked down at his leg. Blood bubbled out of a two-inch long gash on the outside of his right knee, then slipped down his leg. "Mommy! Mommy, help!" he tried to scream, but he couldn't seem to get his voice above a raspy whisper. "Daddy!"

 _Vampires like blood. Vampires and werewolves and ogres._ Erin had told him that, just a few days ago. And they all lived in cemeteries. And now here he was, in a cemetery, bleeding everywhere. He pressed his hand over the cut on his leg, but more blood seeped out from between his fingers. He pulled his legs up to his chest and lowered his head to his knees. "Mommy. Daddy," he moaned.

But he wasn't going to cry. Only little baby boys cried, and he wasn't a baby. He was almost six. Old enough to go out trick or treating after dark. He wasn't going to cry. But it was really dark, and he didn't know where he was, and his leg hurt, and there were scary things roaming around. He whimpered and squeezed his eyes tight to keep tears from escaping. He was _not_ going to cry.

He'd been sitting there for _forever_ , choking back sobs, when a voice broke into his misery. "Hey there, lil' cowpoke. You seem to have lost you cows." An older man stepped up beside him.

Jamie sniffled and swiped a dirty hand across his eyes, leaving a streak of blood and dirt across his cheeks. "Cowboy sheriff. But I didn't have any cows. It's just me that's lost. And I hurt my leg."

"Well, let's take a look at that."

Jamie pulled his legs closer. "Wh- who are you? I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

The man extended a hand. "Your Grandpa Jack. Your mother's father."

Jamie scooted away from the man. "But you're dead. Mommy said so. And Erin said dead people are ghosts, and that ghosts are evil and drag people to Hell." Jamie whimpered and curled back around his legs. "Please don't take me to Hell."

Grandpa Jack sat down beside Jamie. "You tell your sister that what she doesn't know about the afterlife would fill a bookshelf of Bibles. I didn't come from Hell, and I'm not going to Hell, so I can't take you there, can I?"

Jamie thought about what Grandpa Jack had said. "I guess not. But can you help me get home? I want to go home. I want Mommy." Tears almost escaped, but he blinked them back. Then he felt more blood slide down his leg, and looked down at the cut. "Oh! It's bleeding again!" He pressed his hand over the wound and whimpered.

"Let me take a look at that," Grandpa Jack ordered.

Jamie sniffed and moved his hand away. "It hurts."

"Hmm," Grandpa Jack commented as he looked over the wound. "Well, that is a pretty good cut. The first thing we'll need to do is make a tourniquet."

"A turn-kit?"

"Turn-e-kit," Grandpa Jack explained. "A nice, tight bandage for that cut." He gestured to the bandana tied around Jamie's neck. "I bet that kerchief would work."

Jamie pulled the bandana over his head, knocking the cowboy hat off in the process, and tried to hand it to Grandpa Jack.

"Sorry, kiddo. You have to do it yourself. Untie the knot. You've got it," he encouraged as his grandson tugged at the knotted material. "Now we'll fold it into a long strip. Lay that triangle flat on the ground, and bring the point up to the long side."

"Like this?" Jamie asked as he followed his grandfather's directions.

"Just like that. Now fold that short end up to the long end," Grandpa Jack instructed. ""Good. Now tie that around your leg, tight as you can, over the cut," he instructed.

"That will make it stop bleeding?" Jamie asked while he tied the makeshift bandage around his leg.

"It will help until we get you back to your mother," Grandpa Jack commented. "Now, what have your parents told you about what to do when you're lost?"

"Daddy says if I'm in a safe place, I should stay where I am and they'll find me."

"Good advice. I always did like your father. Good people, that family."

"But this isn't a safe place. The ghost of Father Angus is trying to get me, and there's vampires and werewolves and ogres in here," Jamie whimpered.

"Now, cowpoke, I know Father Angus. He wouldn't do you any harm. Besides he's not even here right now. And those other things? Your sister has a good imagination, that's all I have to say."

"Really?"

"Really. So, where would a safe place be? How about in front of that big stone right over there? There's a nice patch of soft grass in front of it."

Jamie looked where his grandfather was pointing. "'kay." He got to his feet, whimpering when he put weight on his injured leg, and limped over to the stone Grandpa had pointed to. He looked at the name on it. "Joseph Ames Conor," he sounded out. "Joseph. That's Joey's real first name. And that one's Joey's middle name. Conor."

"That's right, my boy. Your brother Joey's named for me."

"But if Joey's named for you, why is your name Grandpa Jack?"

"It's an old nickname, from my initials. J, A, C, Jack," Grandpa explained. "And who do you think you're named for?" Grandpa pointed toward his wife's side of the stone.

"Mary Rose Jameson Conor," Jamie read slowly. "I'm named for Grandma?"

"Well, your Grandma's family. Couldn't name a little boy Mary Rose, could they?" Grandpa Jack teased.

Jamie wrinkled up his nose. "No!" He looked around. "Where is she?"

"Grandma Rose? She's watching out for your brother Danny tonight. Giving his common sense some backup." Grandpa Jack sat down against his side of the stone. "Now, cowpoke, come over here and sit down beside me. While we wait for you parents to get here, I'll tell you some stories about when your Mommy was your age. She could be quite the troublemaker. Do you want to hear what she did one Halloween when she was just a few years older than you are?"

"'kay." Jamie sat himself down in the grass between his grandparents' graves and listened to his grandfather's soothing voice telling some story about a Halloween a long time ago, and a little girl who decided to go exploring far away from her house. Within a few minutes, he felt himself getting sleepy. A wide yawn escaped before he could stop it.

"Past you bedtime, cowpoke?" Grandpa Jack asked.

"Um-hum," Jamie mumbled.

"Go ahead and lie down. I'll keep the scary things away," Grandpa Jack assured him.

Jamie scooted down so he was curled up on his side in the grass, his head resting on his costume's cowboy hat. As his grandfather continued his stories, Jamie drifted off to sleep.

-BB- BB-

Meanwhile, on the other side of the cemetery, Erin Reagan was leaning miserably against the side of an NYPD patrol car. After Jamie had run off into the darkness, she had spent ten minutes searching the cemetery for Jamie before she had decided to find a neighbor with a phone and call her parents. _Wasting time_ , her father called it. She didn't think it was wasted time. Well, other than the first minute that she had spent yelling at Paulie and smacking him as hard as she could until he ran to his car and sped off. That has been a waste. Stupid Paulie. This was all his fault.

But her father had told her to stay put, and that he and her mother were on their way with help. One NYPD unit arrived within minutes, and by the time the officer had finished listening to her story, two more cars had arrived. The lead officer assigned one of the cars to patrol the cemetery borders, in case Jamie found his way out, while the second car would patrol the interior roads, and he and his partner would begin a foot search starting from where Jamie had last been seen.

And she'd again been told to stay put. No sense in having two Reagan children lost, the officer had said. As if she was a child. Hardly! She was fourteen; old enough to help with the search. Stupid officer. He was the one wasting time. Another person searching could cut down the time it took to find Jamie.

Erin hugged herself as the chilly October air hit her. Jamie was probably even colder. Poor little kid. He had to be so scared. And that was all her fault. If she hadn't filled his head full of scary ghost stories all week, he never would have run off like that. Erin sniffled. Her fault. She walked over to the edge of the parking lot. "Jamie? Jamie, come back. It's okay," she called. "Jamie?"

Another vehicle pulling into the cemetery parking lot caught her attention. An ambulance! She gasped. Had they found Jamie? Oh God, if Jamie was hurt, her parents would never, ever, ever forgive her. She ran over to the vehicle just as the medics were exiting.

"Did they find him? Is he hurt?" she frantically asked while grabbing at the medic's arm.

The medic carefully pulled his arm free of her grip. "Hey, missy, calm down. I don't know. We heard about a child lost in the cemetery, and decided to see what we could do to help."

Erin stepped back. "Oh." Tears almost leaked out of her eyes. "He has to be okay."

"Hey, now, I'm sure he's fine," the medic tried to reassure her. "But if he is hurt, we're right here ready to help, right?"

"Right," Erin nodded. She looked up as another car pulled into the parking lot from the cemetery's internal roads. "My parents. And Jamie! They found him!"

-BB- BB-

 _A few minutes earlier:_

Frank glanced over at his wife, sitting in the passenger seat of the family car. She was clutching the small cross she always wore, silently mouthing a prayer for Jamie's safety. Why had they ever let Erin take him trick-or-treating? Why had they let them stay out after dark? Bad decisions all around, he berated himself. And now his little boy was lost in a dark, cold cemetery full of natural hazards and predators both animal and human.

"Frank, take the west entrance. I want to stop at Mom and Dad's grave," Mary finally spoke. "Just for a minute."

He nodded in response. A minute later, he turned the car into the cemetery and followed the internal roads toward the Conor family plot. He stopped the car as close to the plot as possible.

Mary stood up beside the car and looked around their dark surroundings. "Jamie is out there somewhere. Scared and alone. Frank, we have to find him," she said.

"We will. There are already officers looking." Frank put an arm around his wife and followed her toward her parent's graves.

Mary abruptly stopped walking. "Jamie!" she cried as she spotted her son curled up on his side in front of the Conor headstone, his head resting on a crushed cowboy hat. "Jamie! Sweetie!" she called as she ran to his side, with her husband close behind her.

"Huh?" Jamie rubbed at his eyes as he woke up, smudging more dirt and blood across his face.

Mary scooped him up off the ground and hugged him tightly.

"Grandpa?" Jamie blinked in confusion. "Mommy?"

"Of course it's your Mommy," Mary reassured her baby boy, even as she tried to look him over. "Frank, he's bleeding. He's hurt!"

"Hurt m' leg," Jamie mumbled sleepily. He felt his father running hands over his head, body, arms and legs, checking for any injuries. He whimpered as his father's hands found the cut on his leg.

"Mary, he's okay. It looks like some scrapes, and a good size gash on his right leg. He's okay," Frank tried to reassure his wife, and himself.

Mary looked down at the bandana tied around her son's leg. "Sweetie, how did you know to do that? To use your bandana as a bandage?"

"Gran'pa Jack told me how," Jamie mumbled.

"Grandpa Jack? Daddy? But…" Mary looked over at her father's grave. So many questions came to mind. How had Jamie gotten all the way across the cemetery to her parents' graves? How had he even known where to come? Mary knew the answer. Her father was still looking out for her and for the grandson he'd never met. She handed Jamie off to her husband and walked over to her father's grave. "Daddy? Thanks. Thanks for taking care of my baby."

"Mary?" Frank's voice interrupted her. "Let's go. There's a medic unit waiting at the parking lot."

Mary briefly rested a hand on top of her parent's gravestone. "Thanks," she whispered again before heading back to the car. Frank let her get seated, handed their son to her, and soon they were on their way.

-BB- BB-

Erin stood frozen as her parent's car pulled into the parking lot and parked near the ambulance, and as the two paramedics rushed over to the passenger side of the car. She watched as one of the medics tried to take Jamie out of his mother's arms and as he whined and grabbed her tighter; watched as her father finally got Jamie to let go of his mother by gently taking him in his own arms. She gasped when she saw the blood smeared across Jamie's face, arms and right leg. Finally, after the medics had settled Jamie on their gurney in his mother's lap, she found the courage to walk over to her baby brother and parents.

"Jamie, I'm sorry," she told her brother.

Jamie turned away from her, burying his face against his mother's shoulder.

Erin turned to her parents. "How did you find him? Where?"

Frank frowned. "We stopped at your grandparent's graves. He was there."

"All the way over there? How did he get there? How did he know where they were buried?" Erin asked.

"Gran'pa Jack was there," Jamie told her.

Erin almost laughed. "No he wasn't. Grandpa Jack is dead."

Jamie frowned at her. "Well, he was there anyway. And if he was a ghost, he wasn't scary, and he didn't want to drag me to Hell like you said ghosts do. And he showed me how to make the turn-e-kit for my leg."

"He must have been hallucinating. Seeing things," Erin told her parents. "Grandpa Jack couldn't have been there."

"He was, Erin," Jamie insisted. "And he said to tell you that what… what you don't know 'bout the afterlife would fill a whole bookshelf of Bibles."

Mary, Erin and Frank all turned to stare at Jamie. "Jamie, where did you hear that? 'Bookshelf of Bibles'?" Mary asked as she stroked her son's hair.

Jamie looked at his mother in confusion. "Grandpa Jack. He told me to tell Erin that."

"That was Daddy's favorite expression," Mary commented. She looked up at her husband. "Frank, where would he have heard that? Daddy died a year before he was born."

"Because what we don't know about the afterlife…" Frank commented.

Mary hugged Jamie tighter. "Because Someone didn't want our little cowboy sheriff being alone tonight and sent his Grandpa Jack to keep him company."

Frank saw some commotion at the edge of the parking lot, and watched as two officers walked out of the cemetery with a handcuffed man struggling between them, and wrestled the man into their patrol car. "And thank God for that."


	2. Putting the Trick in Trick or Treat

**CHAPTER TWO: PUTTING THE TRICK IN TRICK OR TREAT**

Just as Erin was finishing her story, Danny walked into the kitchen. "Hey, guys." He moved in to give his wife a quick hug.

"Back already?"

"Short meeting," Danny explained. "Hey, were you telling my wife about that one Halloween?" he asked Erin.

"Yes, she was, Danny. I can't believe you didn't warn me about letting our boys go trick-or-treating with her, after what happened to Jamie," Linda teased her husband.

"Hey, Erin told me she learned her lesson. Didn't you, Sis?"

"I did," Erin agreed. "I toned it down after that, and I haven't sent anyone to the hospital since."

"Just Jamie, that one year. Of course, we all ended up at the hospital that Halloween."

Jamie shook his head. "Danny, I was in the hospital and Erin was there with me. You and Joe weren't."

"Yes we were," Danny argued. "You just didn't see us. Pops picked us up before the doctor finished with your leg."

"Well, what were you and Joe doing at the hospital?" Jamie asked.

"Being in trouble with Mom and Dad. Just like Erin."

Frank joined his children in the kitchen. "That they were."

Jamie frowned. "Why was Joe in trouble? I remember he got some bruises roughhousing with Tim and Matt, but why did that get him in trouble?"

"It has to do with how he got those bruises," Frank began…

-BB- BB-

Frank was standing at the admissions counter at the local hospital's emergency room, finishing up the paperwork for Jamie's care. The paramedic at the cemetery had determined Jamie needed stiches to close the gash in his leg, and the doctor was working on those stiches. Mary was with Jamie in the treatment room, with Erin standing nearby to witness the consequences of her behavior.

"Frank? Oh good, you're here."

Frank turned around to see Patty Fleming standing a few feet away. Tim Fleming's mother. Joe was supposed to be sleeping over at their house tonight… Then he spotted Joe, standing behind Mrs. Fleming. The ice pack he was holding to his face almost hid the bruises that were forming around one eye and his nose.

"Hi, Daddy." Joe's voice already sounded nasally.

"Patty, what happened?"

"You didn't get my message?"

Frank shook his head. "No."

"Dad, it's not Mrs. Fleming' fault," Joe interrupted. "It was our idea."

Frank looked from Joe to Patty. "Shall we let him explain?"

"You know how it's Halloween, and when people come to the door they say 'Trick or Treat'? Well, Tim and Matt and I thought it would be funny if we gave them a trick…

-BB- BB-

"Man, this is boring," Tim Fleming griped to his friends, Joe Reagan and Matt Longerri. Tim and Joe were seated on the bottom stair in the Fleming's foyer, while Matt distributed candy to the latest group of trick-or-treaters. "No wonder Mom let us take over giving out the candy."

Matt Longerri nodded as he closed the door behind the most recent trick or treater. "Yeah. This blows."

"Trick or treat. Trick or treat. Trick or treat. If I hear that one more time…" Joe Reagan added to his friends' complaints.

"Trick or…" Matt began, and Joe jumped to his feet and tackled Matt into the front door. "Hey! Get off!" he yelped.

"Guys! I have an idea. How about the next person that comes to the door, we give them a trick instead of candy?"

"Like how?" Joe asked.

"We could flash them," Matt suggested. "We'll borrow one of Mr. Fleming's coats, and when we open the door, we'll yank them open."

"Nah, we'll get in trouble for that," Joe advised. "Indecent exposure."

"Whatever, cop-boy."

Tim looked at the staircase leading to the second floor, and how it was neatly aligned with the front door. "What about we get some scary masks, and some plastic bags, and slide down the stairs right at them when we open the door? That would scare them, I bet."

"Yeah!" Matt agreed. "Let's do it!"

The three boys quickly set their plan in motion, gathering all the necessary items for the first ever 'trick' instead of 'treat.'

"I wanna go first," Tim insisted. He positioned himself at the top of the stair with his legs inside the plastic bag. As soon as the doorbell rang, he pushed off from the top and arrived at the bottom, screaming and waving his arms, just as Joe opened the door for a five-year old princess and a four-year old witch. Both girls screamed in terror and ran back down the Fleming's front walk.

All three boys collapsed with laughter. "We have to do that again," Tim gasped out. "Man, that was the _best_. But kind of bumpy on the butt."

"What about a sleeping bag?" Joe suggested. "It has some padding, and it's slippery on the outside."

"I'll go get one." Tim scrambled to his feet and headed for the basement. He returned with two mummy bags. "Joey, why don't we both go this time? Double the scare, right? And Matt can go next."

"Okay!" Joe grabbed one of the bags, and ran up the stairs. He and Tim slipped their lower bodies into the bags, and waited for their next victim. The doorbell rang, and they both pushed off…

-BB- BB-

"And that's where it messed up. The mummy bags slid faster than we thought they would and we landed bad at the bottom," Joe stated quickly. "And Tim's elbow hit me in the face, but he hurt other stuff."

"Sprained his ankle, and maybe a slight concussion. The doctor is checking him out now," Patty explained. "Frank, I'm sorry."

"Not your fault." Frank looked down at his son. "It was a bad idea the boys came up with."

Joe looked away, trying to avoid meeting his father's eyes, and spotted someone he knew. "Hey, look, Danny's here. Danny!" he called to his brother.

-BB- BB-

"…and as to what Danny was doing at the hospital, I'll let him explain that," Frank concluded.

"It's all Al Cleary's fault," Danny argued.

"Good. Blame the guy who's in jail, and can't defend himself," Erin joked.

"Hey, he's in jail because he murdered his parents. And it really was his fault, although I might not have gotten in so much trouble if Joe hadn't made sure Dad knew I was at the hospital."

Jamie snickered. "And now you're blaming Joe."

"Well, if he hadn't drawn Dad's attention to me, I might have gotten away with it."

Erin crossed her arms and looked at her older brother. "Explain what 'it' was," she demanded.


	3. The Spirits of Halloween

**CHAPTER THREE: THE SPIRITS OF HALLOWEEN**

"Danny!"

At the sound of his kid brother calling his name, Danny glanced across the hospital's emergency room and saw the last person he wanted to. His father. Standing at the admissions desk with Joe and Mrs. Fleming. He ducked his head, hoping no one other than Joe had seen him yet.

"Danny!" Joe called again. "Hey, Danny, over here!"

Danny glanced over at his brother. Great. It looked like his father had seen him too, and was looking at him with that disapproving, questioning stare. God, this whole evening needed a restart button. At least, the whole evening after fifteen minutes into the horror movie he'd been watching with Al Cleary…

-BB- BB-

"We need a different game," Al Cleary commented as he looked at his now-empty beer bottle. "'Take a drink every time someone does something stupid' makes the beer go away too fast."

Danny looked at his half-full bottle. "Smaller swigs, Al. That's the way to do it."

"Al, how come I can't have a beer? Mom and Dad aren't here. They wouldn't know," Ronnie Cleary whined. He looked down at his soda bottle in disgust.

"Because you're only thirteen. You're too little," Al snipped at his younger brother.

"Well, you're _only_ seventeen, and Danny is _only_ sixteen."

"Almost seventeen," Danny protested. "And it's just different. We're older."

"That's right, Ronnie. We're older. I'm gonna go get another beer." Al headed off toward the kitchen. He returned a few minutes later – longer than Danny had expected – carrying a beer, two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. "Here, Ronnie. You can have this." He held the beer out to his brother.

Ronnie's eyes went wide. "Really?"

"Really," Al confirmed. "Just as long as you don't tell Dad about this." He held up the bottle of whiskey.

"Okay," Ronnie readily agreed.

"Al, you sure you should be raiding your parent's alcohol supply? Won't they find out?" Danny asked.

"Nah," Al dismissed Danny's concern. "Dad's got enough that he won't even notice." He poured generous amount of the whiskey into the glasses, and handed one to Danny.

Danny looked at his glass and estimated it held almost six ounces. "That's a lot more that you usually serve. One or two fingers, max."

Al looked at him. "Whatever. There's lots of stupid acts coming up in this movie. We need to be ready."

 _And don't you even think about drinking all of that, Daniel!_ A voice that sounded like Grandma Rose echoed in Danny's head. _You remember what I told you about your Grandpop Henry's father. A good man when he could stay off the sauce._

Danny put the glass down. With that much whiskey in the glass, maybe he could cover not drinking very much of it.

"Stupid!" Al called out, and took a swallow of his whiskey. Ronnie picked up his beer bottle and chugged down a good amount of it in response.

Danny looked up at the television and noted that another of the perky blonde sorority sisters had met a grisly end. "Damn. Missed it." And the next time a stupid act occurred, Danny grabbed for his beer. "Why waste good beer? It's only half empty," he'd argued when Al asked why he hadn't gone for the whiskey.

 _If you've got to drink, Grandson, stick to the beer_. _What's that saying, beer before liquor, never sicker?_

Danny shook his head. Maybe he'd stick with the beer, and just the one. It seemed he was already hearing things. Like Grandma Rose.

And he stuck to that plan until his beer ran out. Then he'd started on the whisky. But not drinking it; just swishing and spitting. Al didn't seem to notice; he'd mostly finished off his glass and didn't seem overly observant anymore. Ronnie had also finished most of the beer Al had given him and seemed to be transfixed on the movie. Of course he was. Most of the people being slaughtered in it were blond, buxom women wearing tight skimpy clothes. Every horror movie cliché designed to hold the attention of a thirteen-year old. But frankly, the movie was boring him. Maybe if it had some coherent plot…

Headlights swept across the room. Danny glanced toward the window. They had to be coming from a car in his driveway. He walked over to the window just in time to see his father's car zipping down the street.

"Wonder where your parents are off to so fast," Al pondered.

Danny hadn't realized Al was right behind him. He shrugged. "Dad going back to something at work, probably." The older boys returned to watching the movie.

The movie finally ended about an hour later. Danny couldn't help but think that competent police work, and a little bit of common sense on the victim's part, could have cut the body count down by half. "Those have got to be some of the stupidest people ever in a movie," Danny commented.

"Yeah," Al agreed. "Y'know, stupid acts by the victims was a bad choice from a drinking game." He burped loudly, then abruptly ran out of the room.

Danny had an idea about where he was headed. He stood up and looked around the room. Ronnie appeared to be passed out. The kid sure couldn't hold his alcohol, if that's what one beer did to him. "Well, Ronnie, we should get this stuff cleaned up, before you parents show up," he commented as he pick up his empty beer bottle and the empty bottle of whiskey. Funny, he didn't think they'd drunk that much of it…

Al returned then, and looked at the bottle in Danny's hand. "Danny, let Ronnie pick up after us," he commented. He lightly kicked his brother's leg. "Hey, Ronnie, wake up. Time to clean up."

Ronnie's only response was to moan and tip over onto his side on the floor.

"Hey, Ronnie, get up." Al nudged his brother with his foot again, but Ronnie didn't react.

Danny looked at the empty whiskey bottle again. "Damn, Al, Ronnie drank most of the whiskey!"

"No way, Dan. We gave him a beer. You saw me."

Danny scooped up Ronnie's mostly-empty beer bottle and sniffed it. "And he refilled it with whiskey." _This is bad_. He reached down and shook Ronnie's shoulder. Hey, Ronnie. Wake up."

When Ronnie didn't respond, Danny quickly checked his pulse – it was there, at least – and his breathing, which seemed too slow. He tried to pull Ronnie back to a sitting position, but put him down again when the younger boy started seizing.

"Ronnie! Oh, God! Danny, what do we do?" Al moaned.

"We've got to get him to a hospital," Danny said. _But you'll not drive half-drunk, Daniel. That boy needs medical care, not a car accident. Call an ambulance_. Danny shook his head to get Grandma Rose's voice out of it, and headed for the Cleary's phone.

Al had a different idea. "I'll get the keys. You get Ronnie."

"No." Danny snapped. "We'll call an ambulance. We can't drive." Danny knew he was already in trouble with his parents for the drinking. Probably grounded. But if he drove with any alcohol in his system, he wouldn't just be grounded; he'd be _in_ the ground, probably in a shallow grave out in the woods, because his father would absolutely, positively, no-doubt-about-it kill him for driving even the least bit impaired. "You stay here with him, and I'll go call. Keep him from hurting himself."

It hadn't taken long for the ambulance to arrive, and when it did, the two paramedics had quickly got Ronnie strapped down to a gurney, and instead that he and Al come along to the hospital, to be checked out for alcohol poisoning also. He'd protested, but the police officer that had also shown up made it clear he was with riding in the ambulance as a patient, or in the back of the police car as a prisoner. He could be arrested for underage drinking, the officer had explained. So Danny had decided to get in the ambulance.

-BB- BB-

And now, here he was, half an hour later, being escorted to the Emergency waiting room by Officer Lee, to wait there until a parent could arrive. Although it looked like a parent was already there.

"Hey, Danny!" Joe called again.

"You know that kid?" Officer Lee asked.

"My little brother. And that's my father standing next to him," Danny replied miserably.

"Detective Frank Reagan is your father?" Officer Lee asked as he change course to head for the other Reagans.

"That's him." Danny stood up straighter as they stopped in front of his father.

"Son," Frank said. "What brings you here tonight?"

Danny could hear the disapproval in his father's voice. "Ronnie Cleary. He drank too much."

"Sir, can I explain?" Officer Lee interrupted. "It looks like your son's young friend – this Ronnie Cleary – and another boy got into their father's alcohol cabinet and gave themselves alcohol poisoning. Your son was smart enough to call for help and get them here in time. They should be okay."

"And how much did you drink, Daniel?" Franks asked.

"Just the one beer." Danny looked down at his feet. "And maybe about one shot of whiskey. Figured one of us needed to stay sober." He sure wasn't going to tell his father – or anyone else – that Grandma Rose had been telling him to avoid the whiskey all night.

"Daniel, you know the rules," Frank started to say.

"Aaaaaaaauuuuuuuggghhhhh!" An ear-piercing cry echoed down the hall, followed shortly by another one. Danny recognized the voice as his baby brother.

"Jamie! Dad, what are they doing to Jamie?" Joe obviously also recognized the cry. He tried to run down the hall, but Frank grabbed onto his shoulder and stopped him.

"Joe, it's okay. Jamie cut his leg and needed to get some stitches," Frank explained to both his sons.

Another shrill cry reached their ears, and Joe looked up at his father. "Dad, they're hurting him! Stitches don't hurt that much." Joe bit down on his lower lip and blinked hard to keep the tears back as yet another scream traveled down the hall. "Daddy, do something!"

"Stay here with Mrs. Fleming," Frank ordered. He headed for the treatment room, just in time to meet his wife and the doctor at the door.

-BB- BB-

"Well, now I feel bad. I didn't know I almost made Joe cry with that performance." Jamie said after Danny finished his part of the story.

"And I feel bad again about scaring you and causing you to cut your leg," Erin added before what Jamie had said fully registered. "Wait. Performance? You mean you were _faking_ all that screaming you did when the doctor was putting in the stitches?"

Jamie checked the area around his sister for sharp implements. "Well, not the first one. I yelled because that first stitch felt weird, even with all that numbing medicine they'd poked into my leg with needles."

"But after that?"

"You'd scared me and made me hurt my leg," Jamie argued. "I was kinda mad about that. And you got all upset and teary when I yelped. So I yelled louder the next time, and you got even more upset. You were nearly bawling before the doctor caught on."

"Baby brother totally played you, Sis," Danny laughed. He high-fived his brother.

Erin crossed her arms and glared at her brothers. "You little rat. Just for that, I'm going to plan something special for next Halloween for the both of you. You just wait."

Jamie exchanged a glance with Danny. "Dan, did you hear an evil cackle in here? I think I did."

"I think I did, too." Danny stood up and began walking toward his father's study. "I'm going to go book a ticket for next Halloween to somewhere far away."

Jamie followed his brother. "Book a seat for me also!"

* * *

 _Author Note: In case you're wondering, the "There's a Story Behind That" series is going to be a place for any of my stories inspired by lines from the show, where it seems like there's a whole story behind that line. "Driving with Danny" is unofficially the first in the series, and I have a third in the works!_


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